Chapter 11.1

Synox came to a sudden halt as he tried to guide Rosaline to the sofa.

Even in the dimly lit lounge, where only a few lamps were left burning in the absence of others, his piercing blue gaze felt like it could cut through the dark. Rosaline turned her head away from it, desperately avoiding his eyes.

She mumbled, almost defensively, “It’s not as if we have to look at each other to do this.”

What she really meant was, I don’t want him to know I’ve been crying.

“If we don’t face each other, we can’t kiss.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

They weren’t kissing that way anyway, and skipping a few formalities wouldn’t change anything.

Unless, of course, that was non-negotiable for him.

Rosaline drew a short breath. “Leave the lights off too.”

“…If that’s what you want.”

He set her down gently on the sofa.

“Get on your knees and turn your back to me.”

His voice was cold.

Was he annoyed?

With a slightly trembling hand, Rosaline grabbed the back of the sofa and lowered herself to her knees. The position exposed her quite openly to him.

Large hands gripped her hips and abruptly lifted her up. Her upper body tipped forward from the motion, and she froze, startled.

“Ah!”

He slowly slid his hand down her back, over the curve of her lower body, and spoke in a low tone.

“Say the word if you don’t like the position. I’ll put you in another.”

Rosaline shook her head. It was certainly not the answer he’d prefer. That much she knew with certainty.

Right after, he bunched up the red velvet fabric of her dress without hesitation.

His hand slid beneath the skirts and seized her thigh firmly. His pressure was precise, she could feel each one of his fingers. At some point, he’d removed his gloves. His bare touch skimmed up the exposed skin above her stockings, being rougher than expected. For a man who likely had little contact with hardship, Synox’s hands were unusually calloused.

One of those fingers flicked the lace of her garter belt. Rosaline almost said, Don’t take it off, but before she could, he withdrew his hand. She heard the sound of his clothing shifting, and her skirts—already half-pulled up—were now fully gathered above her waist.

The hand that had gripped her hips moved, replaced by his arm tightening around her waist. The thick, corded strength in his forearm constricted her just below her ribs, until her breath hitched. She twisted slightly in discomfort, but he didn’t budge. Between her parted thighs, she felt his cock pressing forward.

The blunt tip of him traced slowly, deliberately, along the place she’d instinctively kept closed.

“Hng.”

“I thought you didn’t want to do this.”

Your pussy says otherwise.

He nudged the tip of his cock against her through the last layer of fabric. Rosaline reached forward, scrambling for something to hold onto—her fingertips barely grazing the cold metal trim of the sofa—before Synox yanked her back hard and crushed her against his chest. Her slender frame slammed into the wall of his broad, muscular torso.

Her body, entirely dependent on his hold, trembled. As his hand slid down her waist toward the front of her mound, he murmured something indistinct under his breath.

And then, without hesitation, his fingers slipped inside her undergarments.

His fingers parted her damp pubic hair and moved over the tender flesh underneath. His cold touch made Rosaline flinch.

She knew exactly what he was looking for. But instead of finding it directly, Synox teased slowly, trailing over her sensitive folds with an almost infuriating patience. Rosaline bit her lip.

Suddenly, a memory struck her. Alec finding out what she’d done with Synox.

“Don’t, hng, leave any marks,” she whispered breathily.

As if abandoning the pretense of inexperience, Synox calmly untied the ribbon of her undergarments. With the obstructing fabric removed, he pushed aside her folds to expose the small, round nub he’d been after.

“You’re asking for quite a lot today,” he murmured sharply.

For a moment, Rosaline wondered if he disliked this position, with her facing away from him.

Synox preferred eye contact. He liked aligning lips, breath, even their stomachs, until their lower halves finally joined. When they met like that, he often wore a faint smile of satisfaction.

…Like a man making love to someone he cared for.

But in truth, they were just using each other’s bodies.

And maybe that was why she hated the idea of bearing his mark even more.

Stubbornly, she said, “Sir Alec said you can hide it. So…”

“Enough.”

His fingers brushed the sensitive nub between her folds.

“Ngh!”

A jolt of electricity ran through her, arching her back.

Her swollen clit, already slick with her juices, throbbed as Synox toyed with it. He was gentle at first, then his strokes turned more rough and aggressive.

The pleasure was so intense that Rosaline’s eyes began to burn.

“Haa, ahh, ngh.”